


Red

by sharkduck



Series: Primary Colors [1]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Amnesiac Apprentice, Elias gets black-out angry and kills a guy probably, Elias is put in the Calm Down Corner, Explosive Tempers, Fluff, Julian's Route, M/M, So much fluff im drowning in it, The Rowdy Raven, unadulterated fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 22:38:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12617124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sharkduck/pseuds/sharkduck
Summary: Elias's anger is white-hot, and with a forgotten number of years spent as a boxer under his belt, hitting him in the face is probably not the best of decisions.Nobody told the patrons of the Rowdy Raven any of these things.





	Red

Elias's anger is white-hot. Has always been white-hot, for as long as he could remember; (which isn't very far back -- a few years at most, and even then things are slightly fuzzy; the only sharp constant is Asra's infuriating face, always there, always providing some kind of guidance) and there is very little anyone can do when the tell-tale tremble in his fingers rears its ugly head. Even less when he reaches the point where memory and sense fail him, and leave more blanks where crystal clear recollections should be. It's no wonder he went to prison, when he's so easily driven to black-out anger.

(At least, he _thinks_ he went to prison -- where else would he get prison tattoos?)

But even if his anger is explosive, the matches that might set a spark to his short wick are few and far between. Asra, for certain, is one of them -- but Elias could never blow up on _him_ , because much as he actively denies it Asra is too dear to Elias's heart, and that will always win over his temper no matter how many times that secret-keeping smirk makes him want to tear his own hair out.

Hitting him is never a good idea. Hitting him in the _face_ is a worse one.

So, when a patron at the Rowdy Raven gets too into the spirit of the tavern's name, throws a sucker punch that catches him by surprise and draws blood, Elias feels his insides come to a rolling boil. The blood dribbles in small rivulets from his nose, soaks into the cloth wrapped around his hand -- crimson red. He _despises_ red, and that fans the flames; he tastes iron between his teeth, and that fans the flames too.

By the time he's gathered enough sense to look at his new friend -- zero in on them, more like -- his fingertips have already begun to shiver with the sheer force needed to keep the fire in. He closes his eyes, sucks in some air through his teeth in an attempt to douse his temper just a bit, enough that he won't do something he'll regret later. The bar is oddly quiet, and distantly he hears Julian call his name, a warning.

"Shut up," he hisses, voice ragged -- he needs Julian to be quiet. He needs _everyone_ to be quiet. Julian takes a small step forward reaches out to _touch him_ \--

" _Don't!_ " he snaps, and the whole bar steps back at the ferocity in his voice; he feels a small pang in his chest when Julian's hand retreats like he's been burned, and that should have been enough to ground him, but the red is seeping into his sight, no matter how hard he tries to make it stop. The tunnel vision makes it seem like his opponent is miles away, but he knows they're no more than a few feet. He moves as if his body is on autopilot, and he doesn't notice when his hand reaches for a bar stool beside him. The last thing he hears is Julian whispering hysterically.

"No no no don't do it Elias _don't--_ "

Elias wakes up straddling a mess of blood and jawbone. All of the knuckles on his unwrapped hand are split open, and there are splinters of wood embedded in his arms from the shattered bar stool lying in a heap nearby. Whatever teeth the offending bar patron had before are now scattered in several places, gathering in groups in pools of blood on the floor and atop a table nearby. Most of his hair has come loose from his ponytail, strands of it falling into his eyes as his chest heaves. They aren't moving. Before the panic has time to set in, he feels arms around him, wrapping around his torso to yank him away from the scene. He smells medicinal herbs and coffee as he's dragged towards the stairs.

"Let's go," Julian mumbles, barely giving him time to steady himself on his feet before dragging him by the arm up the stairs, dazed and stumbling.

"Did I--?" Elias's voice is barely above a shaky whisper; he doesn't want to say it, can't face the idea that he might have murdered someone tonight. Julian's smile is a poor attempt at being reassuring, and doesn't reach his eye.

"Happens all all the time! It's a tavern, after all. But if you didn't, they're going to have a terrible time eating from now on." That doesn't stop Elias's stomach from twisting in on itself. It takes him a moment, but eventually Elias realizes that Julian's lip is busted open and angry red on one side.

(That's the third time since they've met that Elias has managed to hurt him, he thinks with some sort of morbid amusement.)

Elias digs his heels into the floor when they reach the top of the stairs, refusing to move until Julian lets him bring a hand to his face and use it to tilt his head to the side, inspecting the cut on his lower lip with a stony, passive face. It takes him a moment to find the gall to speak.

"I hurt you?" Julian tries again at a reassuring smile; again, he fails.

"You've got a hard head! Remind me to never try and pull you off someone again; you'll just headbutt me in the face." Elias moves the pad of his thumb against the open wound, presses it against Julian's teeth, and Julian hisses; Elias feels him shiver under his hand. Almost in apology, he rubs small, soothing circles into Julian's cheekbone with his other thumb.

"You talk too much," he mumbles, his chest aching at the idea that, in a blind rage, he would hurt the person he considered closest to his heart. There's a lingering silence in the air, both of them refusing to speak until Elias pipes up again, almost too quiet to hear.

"I'm sorry. I didn't-- I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't mean to hurt _anyone_. I'm--" Julian quiets him by bending down and placing a small kiss to his forehead.

"It's okay. You're okay. Let's just, go back to the room and calm down." Elias's hands and knees are wobbly as he takes Julian's hand, nods, and leans against his arm as they walk briskly down the hallway to their room; Elias sits down down in the corner and puts his head on his knees, hugging his legs to his chest. The adrenaline has evaporated from his body all at once, leaving him exhausted in more ways than one, trembling and nauseous. Julian kneels beside him and cards his fingers through Elias's hair, shaking it free from what's left of his ponytail with gentle, soothing motions. They stay like this for what seems like hours, the silence in the wake of Elias's rampage still crushing, but mediated by Julian's presence.

Eventually, Elias finds the energy to move, pushing Julian onto his backside so he can straddle his hips and bury his face into the crook of his neck, his fists curling into the thin fabric of Julian's shirt, knuckles screaming in protest.

"You should let me see those knuckles," Julian's breath ghosts over the skin of his shoulder, and Elias gently sinks his teeth into Julian's shoulder in response. He jolts hard enough to almost unseat his companion, but chuckles afterwards and settles for wrapping his arms around Elias's waist and keeping him close.

"Point taken."

"Julian?"

"Hm?"

"Please don't leave me." The good doctor doesn't respond -- instead, he pulls Elias closer and traces the line of his spine with his knuckles, occasionally peppering gentle kisses to his shoulder. Elias is content to let that serve as an answer to his request, for now.


End file.
